


Quiet Village My Ass

by thejokerghost



Series: Chronicles of Silver Magic [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Badass Éponine, Child Neglect, Gen, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, fuck i almost forgot to tag that, meh I'm using it, what, wtf does that mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24147487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejokerghost/pseuds/thejokerghost
Summary: The daughter of a crook and a robber in the streets of Montfermeil. The prisoner of beastly creature in a grand castle. Éponine has definitely gone through some shit.Beauty and the Beast AU!how original.Title referencing how I'm basically saying "Fuck you" to the story and adding as many twists as possible.
Relationships: Azelma Thénardier & Éponine Thénardier, Combeferre & Éponine Thénardier, Combeferre/Éponine Thénardier, another friendship I don't want to tell you :p, Éponine Thénardier & Gavroche Thénardier
Series: Chronicles of Silver Magic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1895800
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	1. Dirty Tricks and a Dirty Father

Madame Thénardier had not been the best of people.

She had been rude, selfish, greedy, and terrible to the girl who had lived with them when they had been but children. She had been a terrible person. But she had definitely been a better parent than her husband. Which was why, when she died, Éponine and her sister Azelma regretted being ungrateful for everything they had.

She had always wanted what was best for them. She had kept them fed, dressed them up, and treated them like princesses. She had spoiled them rotten, which was not quite a good thing, but to be fair, again, it was better than their father.

Monsieur Thénardier was a crook. When his wife had died ten years prior, he had sold most of the girls' possessions, thrown out his infant son (and threatened to do the same to the two sisters if they protested), and begun to neglect the girls entirely. He kept them around solely to do him favours and errands. They could have left at any moment, but stayed because they could not go anywhere else.

About five years after the death of Madame Thénardier, he had become acquainted with Patron-Minette, a gang of robbers and murderers. One of the younger members, Montparnasse, had always expressed an interest in Éponine.

Éponine, now nineteen years of age, lay in a room of the old building they had taken residence in, trying to fall asleep. Her sister Azelma was already asleep beside her. Their father had gone out heaven knows where and had not returned for two days now, slightly prompting her to take her sister's hand and get her out of there, anywhere being better than this place. But then, when their father came back, he would find them again, or have Patron-Minette do it for him. Eventually, Éponine's lingering thoughts caused her to sit up and light a candle.

She lifted a pile of rags, revealing a small stack of books she had managed to hide from her father. She loved to read, or more, the fact that she could, though she could only read the same books every night.

Her books seemed to always lead to happy endings, though it could not be true. One told the tale of a street urchin finding adventure and fame, but if Éponine could have done such things, she would have taken Azelma and left a long time ago. Another spoke of a humble country girl falling in love with a prince and living happily ever after, yet Éponine knew that happily ever after did not exist.

She had just opened one when she heard footsteps in the building. Quickly, she shut it again and blew out the candle. She lay down and shut her eyes again just as the door opened. She expected her father. It was Montparnasse's voice instead.

"Get up, 'Ponine." The phrase was rather blunt, but the tone was sweet. "We're looking for your father."

"Why do you need a girl's help?" Éponine asked, opening her eyes.

The dandy smiled sweetly and offered his hand. "I reckoned a tough girl like you could be of use."

Éponine furrowed her eyebrows and refused Montparnasse's hand, helping herself up. "I'll help, but only if you let me search on my own and give me my own horse."

Montparnasse cocked his head slyly. "Are you sure?" His voice changed, twisted from warm to menacing. "It's... dark in the woods. Awfully too scary for a little girl."

"Like you said," Éponine argued, "I'm tough." She would have preferred staying inside, but better to give Montparnasse a reason to leave her alone. The man sighed and agreed, to her satisfaction. He gave her the requested horse and led her to the woods where her father was last seen, telling her to meet at the edge of the forest by sunrise, whether she finds Thénardier or not.

So Éponine set off without saying much, advancing into the forest. She did not even plan on finding her father- she just wanted to get away from Montparnasse. She decided to ride for a little while to trick Montparnasse, then turn back to go home- she probably should not have left Azelma all alone. However, before she could turn back, something caught her eye: a moth. The moth was silver in colour, and somewhat too large to be a moth. She followed it deeper and deeper into the woods, the trees seemingly getting larger and closer together. The dandy had been right; the forest was dark and scary.

There was a gate. A rather large gate, to be precise. In the middle of the woods, there was a rather large gate. Who knew. On the other side was an immense garden of roses. Intrigued, Éponine, unable to open the gate, decided instead to climb it, leaving Montparnasse's horse where it was. It was not that hard- she had learned to do so at a young age. She then resumed her pursuit of the moth, who had landed on a rose nearby.

"Who's there?"

Éponine's first thought was Gueuleumer, the large, brute man from Patron-Minette, but it could not be. She bit her lip.

"Who are you?" the voice repeated. Éponine heard the rustling of bushes behind her and slowly turned around. It's no man.

A large beast stood before her, a snarl revealing fangs and a claw raised menacingly. 

Éponine took a step back. "I- I'm called 'Ponine." she said, careful not to falter. "Who are _you_?"

The beast lowered its arm. "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't answer my question." snapped Éponine. "Look, don't think I'm not afraid of you. You terrify me. But I won't be ignored. I've been ignored too much in my life."

The creature gritted its teeth. "I..." Its (his?) voice softened in the slightest way possible. "I'm the master of the castle." There was a castle? "Now what are you doing, trespassing in my garden?"

"Exploring." said Éponine truthfully.

"I do not believe you. Just yesterday, a man tried to rob me! Are you his accomplice? Come here!" He seized Éponine by the arm and pulled her towards the castle. (!!!)

He took the girl inside, and Éponine saw that it was empty, and that it seemed like no one had inhabited the place in the longest time. She thought that it could not get any colder, but then she was led into the dungeons. She heard snoring as they trudged down the uneven stairs.

"Wake up." ordered the beast's voice.

The snores were interrupted by a snort, and as they approached, Éponine saw that they had come from none other than her father in a dungeon cell.

"Do you know this girl?" the beast demanded.

"Well!" Thénardier exclaimed. "I guess you found her!" Éponine froze, dreading what was to come.

"Found who?"

"Who I'd give in exchange for my freedom, no doubt!" said Thénardier. "This here's my daughter, Éponine, and you can keep her instead! We had a deal, now release me!"

The beast opened the cell and let Thénardier out, shoving Éponine in his place. "You disgust me!" cried Éponine.

"That's the way the world works, Princess." said her father as he strode out. "We'll be waiting if you ever get out!" With a crooked smile, he climbed the dungeon staircase, the beast departing in the opposite direction.

The girl sat there, thinking. The cell honestly was not as different from home. It was almost bare, the floor was covered in rags, and it was lit by candles. The only difference was that Azelma was not at Éponine's side, and that there were no books underneath the rags. Still, Éponine lay down, and after an hour, fell asleep, dreaming of happily ever after.


	2. Does Talking to China and Silver Mean That I'm Going Insane in This Dungeon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a slightly shorter chapter, but what the heck, it's a filler anyways.

Éponine awoke before she opened her eyes. She listened for Azelma's soft snores, but could not hear anything. Opening her eyes, she remembered that she was alone in the dungeons of a castle. She saw that a single piece of bread had been left on a plate and a small teacup full of water sat beside it. She realized that she was thirsty, so she picked the teacup up first.

"Oi, that tickles." said the teacup. _Wait._

Éponine stared at the teacup and saw that it had eyes, and a mouth. She would have dropped it in shock if she had not already been imprisoned by a beast.

"How do you do?" the teacup said, "I'm Gavroche."

"Gavroche?" Éponine stared at the teacup even more. Could it be? The eyes... they were exactly like Azelma's. "I- You're a cup." she said stupidly. She wanted to say, "You're my brother!" or "How did you get here?" but all she could say was, "You're a cup."

"No, I'm an elephant." said Gavroche the cup sarcastically, rolling his eyes, "'Course I'm a cup. Much like the master's a beast."

A million questions poured into Éponine's brain as she attempted to get herself to understand that her brother was possibly a teacup. 

"So..." Éponine pointed to the plate under the bread.

"Nah." said Gavroche. "That's just a plate. Uh, why are you looking at me like that?"

"No reason." said Éponine quickly. "Can I-"

"'Course you can. What's the point of a cup you can't drink out of?"

Éponine sat with Gavroche in the cell, and Gavroche told Éponine about how the master had once been a human, but had been cursed not long ago for spiting a sorcerer. All the inhabitants of the castle had then been turned into furniture, appliances, or decoration, and the curse could only be broken-

"Let me guess, if the beast finds it in his heart to love or whatever?" Éponine cut in.

Gavroche laughed. "Yep. You know, the others have been talking 'bout setting you up with the master, but really, I don't see it."

Éponine scoffed at this, claiming that no one sane would fall for her, thinking about Montparnasse and some other shady men she had met in the streets over the years. The teacup had rebutted this statement by stating that the master, during his time as a reclusive beast in the castle, had gone far from sane. Feeling uncomfortable talking about her captor, Éponine switched the topic to Gavroche, and who he had been before being a teacup. Gavroche had been taken in by a young man and had been raised to be a servant. He said that he had never known his real family.

"But, uh, Courfeyrac's like a brother to me." he said cheerfully. "Bit of an idiot sometimes, but he's pretty _bright_ and real fun. He's probably better than my real family anyways. They never came looking for me, after all."

The girl could not say anything else, because at that point, she heard a soft clunking sound outside the cell, along with the sound of something being dragged. She held her breath for a second, expecting the beast, but realized that the shadow being made was too slim and small to be him. Instead, it was... a candelabra, dragging another plate, this time having bread _and_ the smallest slice of apple. This must have been another cursed inhabitant of the castle with her lunch.

Though she was not quite sure how she could tell, Éponine saw that the candelabra's face was older, maybe around the same age as her. His voice was indeed the one of a young man's.

"Hello, Gavroche." he said, "And hello, Mademoiselle, uh...?"

"I'm called 'Ponine." said Éponine, the same words she had used when talking to the beast. "And you?"

"Courfeyrac." said the candelabra as he pushed the plate towards the prisoner. Well, that explained Gavroche calling him "bright". "Listen, we've been talking, the guys and I, and we decided that-" he cleared his throat, waving his... arms? around flamboyantly. "You, Mademoiselle 'Ponine, are invited to a dinner party in the main dining hall, hosted by yours truly."

Éponine now stared at the candelabra. "I'm sorry, you want me break out for dinner?"

Courfeyrac let out a laugh. "You? Break out yourself? Madame, we are perfectly capable of doing it ourselves."

"Are you saying that I can't break myself out because I'm a girl?" said Éponine, "Because I know how to pick locks. If I could've, I would've left last night. But I don't want to get into anymore trouble with that master of yours, so I'm not risking it. And breaking out for a dinner party? What am I, a common girl with over-protective parents? That sounds idiotic. And the consequences if I get caught? God."

Courfeyrac grinned at the girl. "You know, 'Ponine, I think the master'll going to like you. The offer still stands. Someone will be over tonight to fetch you, and if you want to come, you can come. Gav, you staying with the girl?"

The teacup nodded (Because teacups can somehow nod). Éponine reached towards her lunch and began to eat, and as Courfeyrac hopped away, she wondered if she was going insane in the cell and that she might have just been just imagining her long-lost brother as a teacup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have such a good idea for the plot- I'm so hyped. The next chapter will be out before Tuesday, I hope. Wow, this is the first time I wrote something with a schedule.  
> 


	3. Very Unfortunate Chance Encounters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the tags and the categories like a lot. I realized that this would be way more enjoyable for me to keep on twisting.

The afternoon in the cell was dull. Éponine did like to speak with the teacup at her side, but eventually, she grew bored and rolled to the side, thinking about Azelma and how she was faring without her. Her stomach churned as she imagined how Azelma was being treated by their father. The traitor. Gavroche, if he was actually her brother, was lucky to escape and be raised by Courfeyrac, who was a very nice man as far as Éponine saw. Well, as lucky as anyone who had been turned into a teacup.

Éponine slept for a large portion of the day, having barely done so the night before. When she woke up, she was disappointed to see that no one had come to get her yet like Courfeyrac had said. She did hear a clinking noise, then saw that Gavroche was hopping around the cell, singing,

"Je suis tombé par terre, c'est la faute à Voltaire.

Le nez dans le ruisseau, c'est la faute à Rousseau!

Je ne suis pas notaire, c'est la faute à Voltaire.

Je suis petit oiseau, c'est la faute à Rousseau."

He must have heard her stir because at that second he stopped and turned back at her.

"You know, the master was here earlier." he said with a sort of amused smile. "He wanted to talk with you but I didn't let him. I said you were sleeping, and that I wouldn't let him disturb you."

Éponine thanked him and in turn Gavroche told her that it was almost time to leave.

"Now get dressed." he said, and he seemed to tilt himself in the direction behind her.

Éponine opened her mouth, then looked over her shoulder and saw a violet dress lying on the pile of rags. She picked it up and held it up to herself.

"Joly brought it down." said Gavroche. "Musichetta got it for you." He closed his eyes and turned around, signalling the girl to start changing.

The dress was very simple, but it was prettier and more fit than her old clothes that she had kept for years, her father refusing to spend money to replace what "still fit". She did not have a mirror, but just by looking down, she figured that she looked the best she had in years. Gavroche seemed to agree that she looked quite nice.

New sounds came after less than an hour, but it was not Courfeyrac. It sounded like there was more than one. Éponine watched the outside of the cell, and saw an orange flower pot hopping towards them. A daisy was planted in the pot.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle." the pot said, "Jean Prouvaire, or Jehan. They/them, please. We have come to escort you to the dining hall."

A particularly large knife began climbing the bars of the cell. "Bahorel, Mademoiselle 'Ponine." It stuck its blade into the lock and the cell door opened immediately. "Come on, now."

"You sure your master won't catch us?"

"99.99 percent." said Bahorel.

Éponine picked Gavroche up and held him in her hand, then proceeded to follow the flowerpot and the knife out of the dungeons and down a long corridor. It was very dark.

"Courfeyrac should have come." remarked Jehan, "The poor girl might trip or drop Gav."

"He's busy preparing dinner." said Bahorel. "Besides, the girl is doing fine; she looks like she knows what she's doing. You only wanted him to come because he's your boyfriend."

Jehan did not verify or deny this statement; Éponine was sure that if they were a human at that moment, they would be blushing profoundly. They turned at a doorway and entered a large hall with a long, yet empty dining table.

The flowerpot and the knife ushered Éponine into a seat at the end of the table. It was still quite dark, but Éponine could make out a familiar silhouette on the tabletop. Then the flame on Courfeyrac's head was lit, then a chandelier shone overhead.

"Welcome," he announced, "To the most fabulous meal of your life!"

At that moment, Éponine heard a chord of a piano and was expecting a musical number, but, to her slight disappointment, there was none. However, plates began sliding before her, with soups, salads, puddings, and a large duck in the middle. Courfeyrac began naming all the meals, but Éponine did not listen- she was helping herself to, as the candelabra had said, the most fabulous meal of her life.

Above Courfeyrac's voice, she heard another young man softly trying to argue. She looked up and saw a fancy-looking mantel clock who had walked to the candelabra's side.

"We really should keep it down." he said, "The last thing we want is the master finding out-"

"Jehan!" Courfeyrac exclaimed as he slid down the table cloth, which was an enormous fire hazard, as the mantel clock said right after. The candelabra went off to grab the flowerpot, making Bahorel the knife laugh. The mantel clock simply sighed and told Bahorel to put a sheath on.

Éponine remained where she was and continued to eat, Gavroche at her side on table while she watched them bicker. She eventually finished her very satisfying meal. She got up and pushed in her chair.

"Well, I guess it's back to the cell for me."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Courfeyrac stopped jabbering with the others and climbed the tablecloth ("fire hazard, Courf!"), "No way! We're getting you a proper room! We must apologize for the master's crudeness and inhospitality. We want you to be comfortable."

"You can even go anywhere you want." said Bahorel casually. "As long as you avoid the master, and as long as you stay clear of the gardens and the silver moth-"

"Shut up, 'Rel!" said the mantel clock, seeming to lose his temper.

"Woops." Bahorel took a sheath, seemingly out of nowhere, and pulled it over his blade, covering his face.

"I saw a silver moth." said Éponine. "What about it?"

"Nothing," said Bahorel, his voice muffled by the sheath, "It's just that if the moth dies, we-"

"'Rel!"

Shouts of protest came from the others, talking over each other and scolding Bahorel. They did not seem to notice when Éponine began to approach the window,. The silver moth had appeared outside, once again intriguing Éponine to follow. The moth flew further into the garden. Éponine opened the window and climbed out.

The garden was illuminated by the moonlight of the clear night. The moth looked to sparkle. Éponine reached out to touch it, but then she stopped dead. A shadow loomed over her. A furry claw had seized her shoulder. Éponine slowly turned her head.

The beast roared.

Éponine screamed, pulling away from her captor's grip and darting through the garden. She scrambled over the garden gate, not looking back. She continued to run, to where, she did not know. She would go anywhere just to get away from that wretched castle. She would even return to her father, she would even agree to see-

Éponine ran into a tall figure. Montparnasse turned around, a smile twisted at the corner of his mouth as he saw the girl.

"'Ponine!" he said softly, "I've been waiting for you! Your father said you might show up." His eyes narrowed as he looked at Éponine's shoulder. Éponine realized that the beast had left a mark as she had pulled away from him. "What happened, 'Ponine?" Montparnasse purred as he reached to touch her shoulder as Éponine had reached out to touch the moth.

Éponine slapped the dandy's hand. "None of your business, 'Parnasse."

But Montparnasse reached out again, though before he could make contact, Éponine took a step back. She saw a figure approaching behind him. It was large, and taller than Montparnasse. It seemed to move at a furious pace. Montparnasse narrowed his eyes once more. "What are you looking at?"

The beast growled. Montparnasse whipped around, letting out a scream as he reached into his coat. There was a glint of his dagger as he plunged the blade in. The beast flailed his arm as he scratched the man's face. Éponine yelped and punched Montparnasse's mouth. Montparnasse let out a silent gasp and staggered backwards. He clenched a fist and gritted his teeth, but took off running.

With a paw over his wound, the beast sank to the ground. In panic, Éponine slung the beast's arm over her scratched shoulder and began to trudge towards the castle. She collapsed upon reaching the gates again. The beast's weight crushed her as she passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had to include [Gavroche's song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zE6Ct4WBRow&lc=UggLKGZ64d7HP3gCoAEC), it's too fricking catchy not to. And to be fair, this can be canon era without the revolution if you want it to be, so it can't technically be considered historically inaccurate.
> 
> Also um that last scene was fun.


	4. A Hall of Paintings, a Library and a Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop I updated. Sorry for the wait!  
> I finally got around to figure out what I'm going for in this fic, so I put it in the description.

The room somehow smelled of both perfume and dust. Whispers came from the far corner, whispers that could have barely been made out.

The bed was softer than anything Éponine could remember. All she knew was a cold, hard floor covered in rags. But this bed was something different; she never wanted to leave. She opened her eyes and saw pure white sheets and pillows. The bed was too light for such a dark castle. In fact, the entire room was very bright. Sunlight poured through the window, spotlighting a wardrobe in the corner... who of course, was talking.

It was a woman's voice. Éponine squinted and spotted the face near the top. The wardrobe was looking at a vanity, where Éponine's gaze went next. On the vanity were two more speaking objects. One appeared to be a hand mirror, while another looked like a stereotypical ghost in a sheet, but smaller. Éponine assumed that it was some piece of fabric or something of the sort. There appeared to be no one else in the room.

The voices halted abruptly for a second as the three objects took in Éponine's consciousness. The small ghost-like object slid off the vanity and began sliding (gliding?) towards the bed. Upon closer examination, Éponine saw that it was a lace handkerchief.

"Hello, Mademoiselle 'Ponine." the handkerchief said, "I hope you had a pleasant rest. I am Joly, and these are my associates-"

"Lovers, Joly." said the mirror. "Lovers. I'm Bossuet." He, too, hopped down and began making his way towards Éponine's bed. The girl picked him up to take a look at herself, but the glass was broken.

"Musichetta." said the wardrobe in a sort of dreamy voice. "Are you okay? You walked an awful lot last night with the master on your shoulders. We managed to fix you right up, however."

Éponine looked at her shoulder to see that the scratch that the beast had left had faded into a faint scar. "How is the beas- your master?"

"Fine." said Bossuet. "We have two medically trained individuals in this castle." He motioned to Joly.

The handkerchief appeared to nod. "He won't be trekking through the woods any time soon, but he'll be able to walk in no time. Anyways, Mademoiselle, there is breakfast on the vanity."

Éponine thanked them and ate breakfast, which along with the bread she remembered getting was a fried egg. She smiled gratefully.

Because Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta insisted upon it, after eating, she exited the bedroom and went to explore the castle, like Bahorel had suggested the night before. She strolled down the corridors and examined the rooms, though only found more bedrooms and a hall with nothing but paintings. These paintings depicted young men and women and some neither in portraits and landscapes, filling the room. They were all signed at the bottom with a large R.

There was one painting at the end of the hall that piqued Éponine's curiosity, for the canvas had been ripped. Éponine attempted to fold it back and saw the face of a handsome, pale young man with dark eyes and dark hair, a tall nose and a look of childlike innocence all over his face. But as the girl pressed it flat upon the wall, a large portion still looked to be missing.

A door stood beside the painting. Éponine opened it and gasped. The room was _enormous_. And it was filled with _bookshelves_. Éponine had to rub her eyes to check if she was imagining things.

She immediately found a promising-looking book and began to read at a table in the middle of the room. It told the story of a young thief falling in love with a girl who had nothing much in her life. Éponine rolled her eyes at another love story, but read anyways for the adventure laced into the tale. She did not know how long she was there, but she was already halfway through the book when the door behind her swung open.

A familiar voice said, "Hmm. I knew we should've checked here sooner."

The mantel clock climbed the table. "Gavroche said that no one in their right mind would remain here for a long period and insisted that we shouldn't waste our time." He scoffed. "Last time I listen to a twelve-year-old teacup." He looked at the book in Éponine's hands. "That's a good one you have there. I've read it at least ten times."

"Really?" said Éponine, thinking of her books at home.

The mantel clock scratched his head. "Well, yes. We've been stuck here with nothing to do for the past five years, so I got around to reading all of these books at least once. I honestly prefer informative books to romance, but the one you're holding is... different. It reminds me that there's still hope that I won't die sad and alone."

"That got dark." said Éponine with a chuckle. "Say," she added upon a realization, "I don't think I know your name."

"Oh?" The mantel clock scratched his head again. "Combeferre. I'm a doctor and I was an advisor to the master before we were cursed and he began shutting everyone out."

They sat together and Éponine asked if he had read the books she had at home. Combeferre had indeed read some, and even suggested that he could find a copy of one which he remembered being in the library. Éponine politely declined, saying that she wanted to finish the one she was reading now, and that she wanted to read beyond the small selection she had had access to in Montfermeil. Combeferre nodded and went to fetch some lunch for her.

Several days passed. Éponine learned that she was permitted to stay in the bedroom instead of going back to the cell, and if she was not there, she was in the library with Combeferre, with whom she was growing rather close to. She also spoke regularly to Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta, of course, as well as Gavroche. She was free to do anything but leave the castle- even her friends agreed on this. She had not seen the beast since the run-in with Montparnasse, however, and honestly, she preferred it that way.

One evening, she was reading by candlelight with Combeferre in the library when someone else came in. Courfeyrac skillfully climbed the table and cleared his throat.

"Mademoiselle 'Ponine, we are once again inviting you to dinner in the main dining hall!"

"Really?" said Combeferre, "Really? Are the candles melting your brain? As I recall, last time didn't end so well."

"Actually," Courfeyrac said proudly, "I have the master's permission."

"How-"

"No time for questions, come on, Mademoiselle, let's get you dressed!"

Before Combeferre could protest, Éponine rose to follow the candelabra. She was almost done her current book anyways, and it _was_ time for dinner. Courfeyrac again led her through the corridors and into the dining hall. To Éponine's shock, the beast, dressed in a formal green coat, was on the opposite site of the long table. Food was already laid out. Courfeyrac left without another word. At first, the beast ate quietly, not even looking at Éponine, but after Courfeyrac's footsteps(?) faded, he looked at her with weary eyes.

"Do you think he's left?" His voice was the softest and the calmest that Éponine had heard from him. Éponine did not answer for a moment, wondering if the question was genuine.

"I... I think so." she replied hesitantly as she began to fork her food.

For a second, it was again silent except for the silver clinking on the plates. Then the beast spoke again.

"You do know he intends to have us fall in love, yes?"

Éponine up from her food and saw that he was smiling, looking slightly amused.

"Of course." she said. "It would break your curse, right?"

"As we believe." said her companion.

"Do you plan on doing it?" Éponine asked, now smiling as well.

The beast snorted, making the girl flinch. "You're a nice girl, believe me. But I don't really see us clicking, you know. I am holding you prisoner after all."

"Why can't you let me go?"

"To ensure that Courfeyrac and Bahorel don't kidnap another girl from the village. They were threatening to before you showed up. When you did, I figured that I should just keep you here."

"But then won't your curse never break?" Éponine asked.

The beast shrugged at this. "It'll never happen. I feel like I should try, because the others are cursed because of me, but you can't force me to "learn to love" or whatever the hell that nonsense is."

"To hell with romance." agreed Éponine.

"Plus," the beast added, "How old are you? Twenty?"

"Nineteen."

Another snort came from him, again surprising the girl. "Yeah, no."

Éponine looked at him thoughtfully. They finished dinner in silence and exited the dining hall. As they went in separate directions, Éponine heard Courfeyrac approaching the beast and asking how "enchanting" the evening was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any bets on who the beast is?  
> Also, yes, they actually still think her name is just 'Ponine. She hasn't bothered to correct them, I guess, so the only one who knows would be the beast.


	5. We Learn of Moths, Histories and Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this? An update?  
> I'm terrible at consistent posting. So sorry!!!  
> Also I was working on it this morning and _my laptop shut down_ so good on me for hand-writing it first!

Dining with the beast was not the worst like Éponine had initially believed. They barely spoke. The only time they would say anything would be to poke fun at Courfeyrac's efforts to set them up. Courfeyrac himself was growing more and more exasperated every day. Éponine once overheard him venting to Jehan about how progress was slow.

"You mustn't blame him." said Combeferre one afternoon in the library. "He's only trying to break our curse. I, too, would like to stand tall and be able to leave the castle once again."

"I could try getting closer to your master if you really want." Éponine said guiltily.

"No!" said Combeferre hastily. Both he and Éponine were shocked by his outburst. He cleared his throat and continued, "Erm, I mean, 'Ponine, even if I want to be human again, I would never want you to feel something you do not want to feel."

Éponine had to appreciate Combeferre for the selflessness she did not deserve. She only hoped the others felt the same way. Most of them avoided the subject entirely, so she could not exactly tell. Courfeyrac, of course, was very open with his frustration. About two months after she had arrived, she learned of Gavroche's stance in the matter.

If she was not in her room, library, or the dining hall, she was in one of the long corridors playing marbles with Gavroche. How someone without hands could be so good at marbles, one could only wonder. They were sitting in a sun-lit corner when Gavroche asked the surprising question.

"Courfeyrac says you and the master will fall in love. Is that true?"

Éponine was so disarmed she accidentally flicked her marble towards the other side of the room. Gavroche was the last person she had expected to ask such question, and if she had not seen his mouth move, she would not believe that he had done so.

"So?' said Gavroche.

"I-" Éponine straightened her dress (a yellow-green one today), then got up to fetch her marble. "No. The master and I have agreed that we aren't exactly fit for each other."

"Why not?"

Éponine blinked as she sat down. "Hmm?"

"Why not?" Gavroche repeated, frowning. "Is it because he's a beast? Isn't that the point? Looking at him and seeing through his appearance? He's pretty cool, once you get to know him."

The teacup actually looked mad. Éponine had no idea that he was capable of feeling anything other than playful or mischievous.

"Look," the girl said, "The master doesn't plan on falling in love with me either. This has nothing to do with him being a beast; I think he's pretty decent as far as beasts go. It has more to do with me being force to dine with him every night in the hopes that I'll fall for him and vice versa." She hoped that it would be enough for the boy. Apparently, it was not.

"Don't you care about us?" Gavroche asked bitterly. "You're no better than... no better than my old family. They only cared for themselves, they only worked for themselves... They tossed me out when I was a kid, only 'cause I was inconvenient! And the moth's barely even flying; he's bound to die..." He turned away and began hopping away at a shockingly quick pace.

"Gav?" Éponine stood up, but the teacup had already turned and went through another corridor. Éponine sighed, fell to the floor once more and began tidying. Just after she had managed to put all the marbles into a sack, none other than the silver moth itself flew through a window and onto the carpet nearby.

Though she could not be sure, Éponine felt as if the moth wanted to tell her something. Gavroche had mentioned something about it dying, and come to think of it, so had Bahorel. What was up with this moth and why did it always appear? Why was it so important? And what happened when it died?

It flew back out the window as Éponine stood up. She somehow knew not to follow it this time, though she watched it as it disappeared deep into the garden. It seemed to get dark all of a sudden- wait, that was not the sky, that was a shadow-

"I really hate when you sneak up on me, you know?" Éponine said.

"I wasn't trying to." the beast said defensively.

Éponine turned to face him with absolute confidence. His fur was very neat and tamed today, and he was wearing a slick black suit.

"Why are you so dressed up?" Éponine asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Courfeyrac." the beast replied shortly. "I notice you and Gav...?"

"He's just as delusional as Courf is." mumbled Éponine.

"It's normal. He's been through a lot." said the beast. "Abandoned as a baby, turned into a teacup at seven? The kid can't seem to catch a break, and even his sister doesn't help- yes, I know you're his sister, haven't you noticed how similar he is to you?" he added upon catching Éponine's expression. "I think he's beginning to suspect it as well. He's twelve, what are you gonna do?"

"Wisdom is not something I would have associated with you." Éponine blurted out without thinking. "Oh, I mean-"

"It's fine." the beast said with what looked like a smile. "I'm rather idiotic most of the time. The silver buttons on his suit glistened in the sunlight, reminding Éponine of another thing her brother had said.

"Gavroche said something about a moth," she began, "Did he mean the silver one that always seems to follow me around?"

The beast paused. "I supposed it won't hurt to tell you." He glanced outside. "You see, when the sorcerer cursed me, he showed me the moth. As long as it flies, my curse can be broken. But when it dies, I remain a beast, and all the others lose their conscience and become only appliances and furniture." His face was gaunt, even for him, "And the moth has been flying less and less. Combeferre fears that it doesn't have long." He let out a breath. "Well, see you at dinner, Éponine." He left abruptly, though Éponine could not care less. She needed time to think.

She felt guilty. How could she not? Courfeyrac and Gavroche had the right to be mad. They had hoped that she would be the solution to their problem, but she was not even going to try. She tried to shake her guilt, but was not able to do so. She went straight to her room and let herself fall face-first onto her bed and remained that way until dinner, despite Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta's efforts to cheer her up.

Dinner was different today. After Courfeyrac left, the beast actually wanted to talk. He told her what he remembered of life before the curse, which was not much for one reason or another, but it was still informative. He was not a prince, despite the fact that he owned a castle, but he was part of the gentry, and he owned an apple orchard near the gardens, which explained the excess of apples in dishes in the past. Combeferre had indeed been his advisor and a doctor, while Courfeyrac had been the maitre d'. Joly had also been a doctor; Bossuet, Musichetta and Bahorel had been workers in the orchard, Jehan had been a gardener. They had all once been close, but after they had been cursed, they had drifted apart.

In turn for her companion's openness, Éponine spoke of her life. The beast looked increasingly concerned at her descriptions of her father and Patron-Minette. In fact, he seemed to be about to burst out, but at that minute Éponine finished her food, thanked him for dining with her, and left.

The pair began talking every night at dinner about basically anything they could. Courfeyrac, Gavroche, the moth, the sorcerer, books, random things they found funny. Though Gavroche was no longer speaking to her, Éponine felt that she had another friend- in her captor. He was the only one excluding Combeferre who really understood her. Courfeyrac was also beginning to see that they were growing closer, which put him in a good mood most days, which also put him in a scheming mood. Soon, they were even eating other meals together.

Two months turned into three, which turned to four, which somehow turned to six and a half. Late November brought cool breezes, more apples, and bright orange leaves falling. from the trees. From the library window, Éponine silently watched Gavroche jump into leaf piles outside.

Combeferre approached her. "Courfeyrac was extremely cheerful today." he said Éponine could not work out why, but he was staring at the table on which he was standing. "He said he had some plan for you and the master."

"He always has some stupid plan for us." said Éponine, who had learned an awful lot about Courfeyrac over the past six months. She leaned on the sill. "What makes this one different?"

Combeferre was evidently trying to hide his distaste, but he was awful at it. "He's planning on having you dance."

Éponine stared at the mantel clock for a good second. Then, she burst out laughing. "You're kidding? You're kidding right? Wax Head's going to make us- this'll be fun!"

Her friend did not share her amusement. "You like the idea?"

"Well, I have no idea how to dance, so I can't wait to see how much I mess up- say, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Combeferre said quickly, still avoiding her eyes.

Then Éponine understood. "Are- are you jealous?"

"No!" said Combeferre. If he could blush, he would have been blushing. "Why would I be-"

"You're jealous!" Éponine teased. Her face was burning and so were her ears, but a wide smile had appeared on her face.

"Shut up. I believe Musichetta's waiting for you. She probably has an extra special dress ready. Go ahead." The mantel clock turned his back to her indignantly.

Éponine skipped on her way to her room, and her smile remained as she thought of Combeferre all the way back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're ending the chapter here :)  
> I was listening to Drive from the Lightning Thief musical on loop while I was typing this, it's now officially my motivation song.  
> Did you know that I'm already halfway done writing the next chapter on paper? Now I just have to finish it and find the time and energy to type it.


	6. Bossuet is Quite Useful for a Broken Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me for this chapter. elipses and dashes appear in like every other sentence and the pacing's either perfect or terrible, there's nothing in between
> 
> also i enlisted the help of my friends to beta read, so here's to Net and Waitsel, I guess.

There was indeed an extra special dress—violet, like her first one—ready for her when she arrived. Her smile from earlier had not yet taken its leave, though she had not noticed until Bossuet had made a remark on it. Musichetta had then suggested that she was excited for the evening, which she was, but for totally different reasons. After she was given a ribbon to tie in her hair, she was rushed out of the room.

Bossuet and Joly took her to the grand entrance hall which she had only seen once before, when she had first entered the castle six and a half months ago. She caught a glimpse of her companion before she felt something cold and hard hitting her in the shin. She was about to protest, but Courfeyrac hit her shin again, shushing her. She could only be grateful that his candles were not lit.

The candelabra took her up a flight of stairs to the second floor, which she had never bothered to explore. Éponine looked over the balcony to properly look at the beast. His dark fur was by far the neatest it had been, and he was wearing his green suit. He was seated at a small table near the entrance of the castle.

Courfeyrac pushed Éponine towards another staircase. Though she knew that she was to descend in a "cliché reveal" fashion, she shrugged, jumped the flight, then hopped onto the banister and slid down to where her friend was waiting for her.

"How's Courfeyrac?" Éponine asked him, assuming that he could see the candelabra from behind her.

"Priceless." the beast replied with a fanged grin. A few months ago, the fangs would have terrified the girl, but now, she had simply gotten used to it. "Now, I suppose we should dance." He snapped his fingers and wiggled his eyebrows.

Éponine had expected a waltz, or at least something slow and romantic, but instead, a quicker than expected merry tune began to play— a bourrée. Éponine managed to catch the look on Courfeyrac's face— pure confusion. The beast, instead of taking Éponine's hand or anything, began to instead step and spin around her, much to her amusement. He looked at her as if to say, "Copy me."

She had to admit that she had seen this dance before at least once, maybe in the streets of her town. After a second, they were circling each other, grinning, and after a few minutes, Éponine was able to speak as she danced. She questioned the music, and the beats told her that her that "the band was on their side". Though she was sure that they were not actually supposed to, they talked as they stepped around each other.

"It's exactly one month until Christmas." the beast said. "It's the 25th of November."

"Really?" said Éponine. She had known what month it had been, but she had not been keeping track of the exact date. "Yeah? That means... it's my birthday. Yeah, the 25th. I'm twenty today."

Her friend's eyebrows raised. "Happy birthday, then."

Éponine smiled. "You know, my sister Azelma's birthday is just two days after mine. I used to sneak her away while our father was distracted, we'd sneak away to the outskirts of town and hang there until evening, because it would only be then that Father would..."

"Is something wrong?" the beast said when Éponine stopped dancing and cut off her sentence.

"I..." Something flowed through Éponine's veins: cold realization. Cold, raw realization, followed by stinging guilt. "I- My sister! I forgot about my sister, I-I left her alone with our father, I know you won't let me-"

She was cut off from her rambling by her dance partner. "Courfeyrac." her companion said loudly. The music stopped instantly. "Get me Bossuet."

"Why-"

"Just go." the beast ordered.

Courfeyrac turned up a moment later with Bossuet the broken mirror clambering behind him into the entrance hall. The beast swooped Bossuet up and placed him in Éponine's hand.

"Say what you want to see." he told her.

Éponine did not bother to question it; she cried out her sister's name. Nothing happened at first, but after a moment, something seemed to appear in the cracked glass. First was the figure with dirt-brown hair, freckles riddled on her face, a cut on her lip and almond-shaped eyes the colour of jades. Next was the dark, bare room in which the girl was sitting in. The floor was covered in rags. Azelma was holding a book—one of Éponine's—in candlelight.

It was hard to tell, because as we've established the glass was damaged, but Éponine saw that her sister was straining herself. She was slowly reading the book aloud, taking long pauses and squinting, which was understandable, because she could not read as well as Éponine could. The scene faded and al that Éponine saw was her face distorted by the cracks. She only breathed heavily and stared, even though she knew that it was all that she could get.

"Your sister looks a lot like you." Bossuet said. Éponine almost dropped him; she had forgotten that the mirror was a person. "She looks terrible. Not in that sense!" he added hastily, though Éponine honestly was not paying attention.

"Well?" said the beast in anticipation.

"I don't know." Éponine said quietly. How could she know? She could not just leave now. But Azelma? To abandon her...

The beast scratched his snout. "Bossuet, stay with Éponine at all times. Éponine, check on your sister as often as you need to. If you need anything, let me know, alright?" He nodded "good night" and left.

Éponine took Bossuet back to her room.

"There's an e in your name?" he said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

* * *

Thénardier seemed softer to Azelma than Éponine remembered. He rarely yelled at her, let alone hurt her. Éponine would sometimes spend hours watching her sister, making sure of it. She decided that if her father lay even a finger on her, she would leave as fast as she possibly could.

Combeferre was not a big fan of Bossuet joining them in the library. He claimed that he talked too much, and though this was true, Éponine suspected another reason. She did not bring it up, of course, nor did Combeferre say anything himself. Despite his thoughts on Bossuet in the library in general, Combeferre was supportive of the purpose and would often watch with them.

Winter came and went quickly, and though no big snowball fight occured, Éponine could say that she enjoyed it for the most part. Surprisingly, at Christmas, she did not dine. with the beast. He had ordered that her Christmas dinner was to be delivered to the library and that Éponine was to decide who was to accompany her. Unsurprisingly, she chose Combeferre, but she also requested that Bossuet came and brought Musichetta and Joly with him. It had been fun to watch Musichetta the wardrobe make her way to and from the library.

Sometime in January, a walk from the library to the dining hall was interrupted by a certain teacup.

Gavroche shyly hopped up to Éponine. He avoided her eyes as he said almost inaudibly. "I heard you've been using Bossuet to look after your sister. You," he paused, "must care for her a lot."

Éponine swallowed. "Yeah. 'Zelma, she means the world to me."

They stood in silence. Éponine swallowed again. "Gavroche, I'm your-"

"My sister?" The teacup's eyes met hers. "I... kinda guessed.That's why I felt so-so-"

"...betrayed?"

"...that, when you said you didn't want to help us."

Éponine began slowly. "It's not that I don't want to help you-"

"I know-"

"It's that I don't know how. I like the master- he's one of the best friends I've ever had- but I don't like him like _that._ "

Gavroche nodded, and the mouth painted on his painted on his face was slowly showing a smile. "Of course you don't. I knew it myself. I'd just hoped..." He chucked, and like a burst of light, all the light-hearted mischief returned to his face as he added "You like Combeferre."

Judging by their temperature, Éponine knew that her face and ears had gone red. She said almost immediately, "What makes you think that?"

Gavroche began to laugh, and Éponine had to admit to herself that she was being stupid and laugh as well.

After their laughter died down, the teacup did not speak for a second. He then slowly asked, "Erm, Éponine? Can I... maybe see my-your-our... sister?"

Éponine blinked several times. "Uh, Bossuet!" she called, "You around here somewhere? Bossuet!"

The mirror came into the corridor. "You called?"

Éponine picked him up and crouched down so Gavroche could see. "Show us Azelma." Together, they watched their sister sit and read Éponine's book. Éponine stole looks at the teacup, and based on what she saw, he seemed to feel better.

As the image disappeared from the glass, Gavroche said, "I don't know how to read. I never learned how."

After a moment, Éponine said, "I could try teaching you, if you want."

The light flickered in Gavroche's eyes. "You'd do that?"

Éponine nodded, and at that moment, she knew that she had gotten her brother back. **_(a/n: if that ain't the cheesiest thing I've ever written, I don't know what is)_**

Now there were four in the library: a chatty and sweet cracked magic mirror, a slightly disgruntled bibliophile mantel clock, a very eager twelve-year-old teacup and a girl happy to put up with all three.

Gavroche had questionably never even learned how to read simple sentences, but he could pick out certain words, which was all that was necessary, apparently. Éponine had not expected to be any good at teaching him anything, but by March, with Combeferre and Bossuet's help, whe got him to read a chapter from a legend about some sort of rare magic.

" 'The w-the wit-ch's da-dow-dot-daughter!-is ru-ru-moured to have sur-vived. It... is s-said th-that ssshe lives on with hhher own child-ren... children in a far-away... faraway kingdom, ... safe from all w-' no, 'who wish to u-use her powers for b-bad in-ten-ti-ons—intentions.' " Gavroche looked up from the book smiling from ear to ear, then coughed slightly. Éponine and Combeferre applauded, and though Bossuet could not clap, having no hands, he whistled.

The mirror checked then the time (aka Combeferre's face) and said, "I think it's late. Don't you have to eat with the master?"

He was right, so Éponine saluted her friends and left for dinner.

"You're lucky Courfeyrac isn't here." the beast said upon her entrance. "He'd go nuts over you being late."

"It seems like you're the one criticizing me." Éponine teased.

She had meant for it to be a joke, but her companion looked slightly guilty for a second. "I'm sorry. You're never late, and I'd thought you weren't coming."

"You know I wouldn't leave you alone."

He shrugged sheepishly. "I know, and I'm happy for that. You're the best friend I've had in five—well, now six—years, you know?"

"That's... incredibly sappy." said Éponine. She could not bring herself to admit that he was the best friend that she'd ever had... ever. Sure, she had Azelma and Gavroche, but they were her siblings more than anything, and she had Combeferre who... well, her ears burned just thinking about it.

"How are the lessons with Gav?" the beast inquired.

"Great! He read an entire chapter today."

"That's brilliant. And your sister? How's Azelma faring?"

"I..." In the excitement of Gavroche reading a chapter, Éponine had not checked the mirror once.

Her companion somehow understood immediately. "Courfeyrac!" he roared, using his beastly capabilities to his advantage. "Courfeyrac! Come here!"

The candelabra arrived in record time. "Yes, sir?"

"Get me Bossuet! Now!"

Courfeyrac knew not to question the master when he was like this, and soon Bossuet was in Éponine's hand. "Azelma!" she cried out."

As usual, the girl herself was revealed first, and she seemed... to be crying. Éponine's eyes widened as the rest of the scene was revealed. She was sitting in the dark alleyway which was beside the building the family took shelter in. Éponine squinted, then put her free hand over her mouth. Azelma was putting her hand on her shoulder. Her shoulder was bleeding.

The beast, who had been watching from behind, said in an impossibly calm tone, "Courfeyrac, prepare a horse."

"Sir?"

"Please, Courfeyrac. You saw what we all saw. Prepare a horse for Éponine. Get Joly while you're at it."

Courfeyrac did not object and departed. Éponine heard him clearing his throat as he did so. She turned towards the beast, who remained calm, but his concern was alight in his eyes.

"Are you ready?" her companion croaked, "To go out, I mean? You don't have much time." He was then launched into a coughing fit, then he chugged down a glass of water. He slammed a fist onto the table and continued to cough.

"I... are you okay?"

The beast massaged his throat. "Unfortunately," He smiled sadly and glanced at Bossuet, who was still in Éponine's hand. "I don't think we have much time either."

The words sank in. "Wait, do you mean..."

"You can't worry about us Mademoiselle." urged Bossuet, whose voice was suddenly as scratchy as the beast's. "We have to go. Are you ready?"

Hands trembling, Éponine walked up towards the beast. "I-" she began, on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry I wasn't the girl who could break your curse."

Her companion replied solemnly, "I'm sorry for keeping you all while knowing that." He put a paw over his face and turned away. Éponine, with Bossuet's pained directions, ran towards the stables.

Courfeyrac and Joly the handkerchief were there, waiting beside a tall, steadfast-looking grey horse. Joly and Bossuet were to travel with Éponine; Joly would help tend to Azelma's wounds, while Bossuet would be of use to check on things.

As Courfeyrac got Éponine safely into the saddle, Éponine said lowly, "Would you say goodbye to them for me? You know, in case... " She could not say it, but Courfeyrac knew.

"I'll make sure of it." he assured her in an awfully mellow tone. "Mademoiselle, I know I haven't been the most of agreeable of people-"

"You were just doing what you thought was best for you and the others. It's okay. I know I haven't been great with you, either."

Courfeyrac smiled, and without another word, he sent her, Joly and Bossuet off into the woods. As they exited the garden, Éponine noticed a flicker of silver in the bushes, then it disappeared in a blink. The girl picked up Bossuet again and checked on Azelma, who thankfully did not look worse, but certainly had not gotten any better. The horse was relatively quick.

Either a minute or a thousand years later, the girl grabbed the mirror and handkerchief, leaped off the horse the horse and ran down the alleyway, from where she could hear sobs echoing.

The rest of the night was blurry. Éponine had taken her sister into her arms, Joly and Bossuet had helped bandage the wounds, they had comforted each other, and they had fallen asleep where they were.

Éponine only woke up when her sister shook her awake.

"'Zelma?"

"'Ponine? Your friends... I think they're sick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one chapter left!!! (i hope)
> 
> here's my [Tumblr](https://uncreativepieceofmusicaltrash.tumblr.com/) if you want it


	7. A Mess is What It Is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... this chapter and the next were supposed to be one big one, but then I looked over it and it didn't make much sense for them to be one big chapter, so i divided it up
> 
> I've never been good at writing climaxes, and I hope this is good enough. The pacing, once again, is hit or miss, and I made the resolution a sappy "love wins" fairytale ending, because how else am I supposed to resolve this fever dream of a fic?
> 
> also I put all the relevant relationships back in the tags and looking back I'm decently proud of myself for it.

Joly's form usually resembled a sheet ghost, and he sort of crumpled up when he was nervous. Right now, he was crumpled up, but also lying flat, his face in the middle of the handkerchief. The thread sewn on his face representing his mouth showed a deep frown. Bossuet was in a similar condition, but he was also coughing, much like how the master had.

Éponine picked the two up in either hand, Azelma leaning over. Her shoulder had been beaten rather bad, but she was holding together nicely. It was she who whispered, "Can't we help them?"

"Cute." mused Bossuet softly. "You know, just our luck. The day you leave, the day the moth decides to die."

"Your sister is kind as you are." Joly rasped.

Unable to accept it, Éponine said, "Show us the silver moth." The silver wings appeared in Bossuet's glass, but they were not moving. The moth lying in the garden, almost immobile. The beast and Courfeyrac were crouching over it. The beast's fur was unkempt and seemed to have greyed overnight. Both he and the candelabra looked tired and old.

"You lived a good life friend," said the beast, "No need to keep strong for us." He stroked the moth's wing gently.

"Sir, I-" Courfeyrac began, raising the candle that was his hand.

"I'm sorry for how I've acted, Courfeyrac." the beast said gruffly, "I'm sorry for shutting you out. And I'm sorry that I have to do it one last time."

Courfeyrac frowned. "I don't understand, sir."

"Leave me be. Find the others. Spend your last moments with them." The beast sat by the moth, the two barely moving. "I will stay here."

"Sir?" Courfeyrac bit his candle.

"I'm still your master, Courfeyrac. Please."

The image faded with the beast nudging the candelabra away. Éponine lowered Bossuet who did not have Courfeyrac's strength. They had to strain themselves to move close to each other. She often forgot it, but that moment Éponine could see that she could see how much they actually cared for the other.

She looked at her sister. "Can you travel?"

Azelma hesitated, but nodded.

"Wait," said Bossuet, "What are you doing, 'Ponine?"

Éponine did not reply immediately. She helped Azelma onto the horse, then swept the handkerchief and the mirror back up and climbed in herself. She flicked the reins and rode back out and into the forest.

Dawn was breaking, and sunlight was flooding through the woods, lighting up the scene only known to the girls as dark. Yet no bright light could lighten them. Éponine kept focused on the path in front of her, facing away from the rising sun. She felt the heat on her back, disappearing and reappearing when passing under the shade of the trees. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart and the sound of the faithful horse's strides.

"You know we cannot be helped right?" said Joly from her pocket

"You let me be with my sister." she replied. "I'm letting you be with your girl." She snapped the reins and the horse accelerated.

The large gate was open. As they rode through the gardens, the beast and the moth were nowhere to be seen, but it was no one's priority. They got off the horse at the main entrance.

As they went, Bossuet's coughs became more abundant, and Joly was becoming colder and colder. Éponine continued her steady, furious pace, her speed increasing by the second. She tripped down the corridors and Bossuet slipped out of her pocket. She caught him and stuffed him back in there, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat from her brow. Her head hurt.

Finally, the door. They thrust it open and Bossuet and Joly called out in tired voices, "'Chetta!"

"J? B?" the wardrobe's soft voice said, "Are you here...?" Her voice faded before Éponine could reach her.

"Musichetta?" she said. She got no answer. The wardrobe was still.

No. No. The two girls stood there. The younger stepped back, eyes wide, unable to process it. The elder put her hand on her mouth and shook her head. It was not supposed to be like this. It was too quick, too sudden. Hands shaking, she took out the contents in her pockets. "J-Joly? Bossuet?" She shook her head vigorously. "Guys?" Their faces had faded. All that were left were the broken glassed-mirror and the lace handkerchief. Éponine stared at them, and she was submerged into water, or her eyes were just streaming.

She wrapped the handkerchief around the mirror and placed them in the wardrobe. She took Azelma's hand and led her out the bedroom. They crossed the corridors in silence. Éponine kept going until she found the dining hall.

It was a knife's glint that caught her eye. Its blade shone in the light like a smile. A sheath lay at its handle. To the knife's right sat a flowerpot, its flower withered. A candelabra stood at the pot's side. One of its candles was the touching the flower. Its opposite candle grazed a mantel clock. Sitting in front was a simple white teacup.

Éponine could not bring herself to tell Azelma of the cup. Not now. Not here. She stroked the cup where a cheek might have been. After a second, she lifted the clock and placed its face to her lips.

Again she took her sister's hand and pulled her out. They went in the opposite direction and exited the castle. They stepped through the shrubbery and searched for what seemed like hours. The sun rose high in the sky. Finally, at the back near the orchard, Azelma let out a gasp and pointed. Éponine rushed to her sister and skidded at the sight of the beast; the image of her friend's lifeless figure spread-eagled on the ground chilled her. The moth lay at the beast's paw.

The two sisters bent over them. Éponine closed her eyes. She sighed and put her hand on her friend's arm. Her eyes wandered from him to the moth.

Her throat was dry. "I..." She looked backwards to her sister, who only looked at her with helplessness in her eyes. She sat as she had seen the beast doing. "I..." she repeated, but she could not find the words. I'm sorry I wasn't the loveable girl from a little town of whom the stories all tell. I'm sorry you didn't fall head over heels for me. I'm sorry to say that I wouldn't kiss you if you paid me. She could have said any of these. She did not say any.

Azelma had crouched by the moth and was admiring its beauty. She rubbed her shoulder. Éponine realized how strong her sister was, following her despite being hurt out of loyalty and love.

"'Z-Zelma?"

"Yeah, 'Ponine?"

"I love the way you stick with me al the way, even when you don't know what's to come."

Her sister's ears went red; it ran in the family. "Of course, 'Ponine. You're my sister."

Éponine wiped her eyes, finally. She focused back on the beast. She regret not making an effort to help him. He had been such a good friend, he had understood her...

Just like that, she knew what to say.

"I love how Jehan always had a smile on their face." she began, glancing up at the castle. "I love how Bahorel never let his sheath shut him up. I love how Courfeyrac never gave up on breaking the curse and how Musichetta did her best to make me feel at home." The words came to her naturally and flowed out like a river. "I love Joly's sweetness and Bossuet's charm and love of finding something to laugh about. I love Combeferre's sensibility and the way he talks, and Gavroche's spunk and his jokes and determination. I..." She looked at her furry companion and concluded faintly, "I love how you listened to me and always thought of me. I don't know about you, but I love you. You're my best friend."

She got to her feet and brushed the dirt off her dress. She took Azelma's hand one last time and turned away, trying to pull her along. Azelma remained where she was. Éponine looked where her sister was looking and gasped.

A burst of blinding light appeared. Éponine closed her eyes. When she opened them, she wondered if what she saw was real, and whether she was dead or dreaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you might not have noticed it, but the "too quick, too sudden" part was me being self aware because I'm terrible at pacing  
> ... heh


	8. Some Sort of Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're here, folks! Last chapter! this fic has been a trainwreck from start to finish, so tysm if you've come this far  
> this one's extremely cringey, just to warn you...  
> again, thanks to my friends Net and Waitsel for beta reading  
> 

If you had been in the girls' place, you would have been in absolute disbelief as well.

Where the large figure of the beast had lay now stood a stocky, broad-shouldered young man who looked to be in his early thirties. His shoulder-length curls were the dark brown colour of the beast's fur. His skin was softly tanned, his round black eyes twinkled sweetly. He was not conventionally handsome, but he had something about him which could have won someone over easily.

"That..." he said in an all-too-familiar voice, causing a chill down Éponine's spine, "was incredibly sappy." He raised his hand to scratch his nose, then caught sight of it. He froze and stared at his hand. He proceeded to scratch his nose, but slowly, to feel it. "Well, would you look at that?" His voice was dreamy and surreal.

Éponine let go of Azelma's hand and ran to him. Breathing heavily, she said, "It... it's you!"

"Well, who'd you think I was, Jehan? You'd know them from a mile away."

"I- you-" Éponine realized somthing pretty funny. "I..." She laughed. "Hey, what's your name?"

Her friend raised an eyebrow at her and scratched his stubble. "Dear God, I think we all just forgot I had a name." He offered his hand. "Grantaire. Or just R, if you want."

Éponine ignored his hand and threw her arms around his neck. They matched each other in height, though whether this meant that Éponine was tall or that Grantaire was short was question no one thought to ask.

"But... how?" said Éponine upon their parting. "I thought you had to 'learn to love another' or whatnot-"

"I guess whoever cursed me forgot to specify." Grantaire replied. "Or maybe they meant it. Either way, I do love you, Éponine. You are my best friend as well."

"Hey?" Azelma said, forgotten in the moment, "If you're back, then does that mean the others...?"

"There's only one way to find out."

They took off for the castle, and they had just reached the corridor which led to all of the places Éponine had spent her time at, when another all-too familiar voice said dramatically, "Grantaire, you son of a bitch."

A tall, completely bald man stood by Éponine's bedroom door with scrawny, pale man leaning on a cane and a small, round, wise-looking woman. No introductions were necessary; they were looking at Bossuet, Joly, and Musichetta.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to say that." said the bald man who Éponine assumed was Bossuet. Grantaire grinned, rushed up to them and put his arm around him. Éponine had never before explored the possibility that they had been good friends, but it was quite evident now.

"I- I'm sorry."

"Please don't apologize." said the woman who was Musichetta, "You did it awfully too much even before this curse."

"Not the time for apologies." agreed Joly, "Only two minutes ago, we woke up on top of one another, and I still have to process the fact that I am no longer lace."

Grantaire slowly nodded, his grin widening. He motioned for the two sisters to hurry up, and they all made their way towards the dining hall.

The first thing Éponine saw was a white flower braided into hair the colour of a sunset, paired with a shirt so purple that it would pass its wearer off as royalty. As the person noticed them, Grantaire's words suddenly made a lot more sense: "You'd know them from a mile away!"

"Jehan?" Éponine guessed.

Jean Prouvaire's eyes lit up, their smile so big their face could have broken.

Bahorel was a no-brainer; he was built like Grantaire, tall like Bossuet, and the buckle on his belt shone like the blade of a knife. But you would have known who he was just by the way he talked; he was loud and grand; he was spitting a thousand words at once as he slapped Grantaire on the back.

"Put a sheath on- oh." A man about Azelma's height was sitting on the table by Bahorel's side.

Bahorel, instead of taking a sheath, took out a strip of cloth. "This good, Wax Head?" He tied it around his mouth.

'Wax Head', or Courfeyrac, chuckled. "Better."

This left a pair in the corner, who did not seem to notice the new arrivals at first. A lanky, bespectacled, somewhat good-looking brunet sat with a boy who was reading a book aloud. The boy's nose was long and pointer and his lips were thin and pink, like Éponine, but his dirt-coloured hair, pale skin, and almond-shaped, jade green eyes matched Azelma.

The boy was reading something along the lines of, "-in-clu-ding tra-trans-for-ma-ti-ons, re-ju-ven-a-ti-ons? Me-mo-ry sp-spells, h-hiding in... paintings, scu-sculpt-ures... "

Combeferre finally looked up and saw Éponine beaming at him. He shook Gavroche's shoulder, and mumbled, "Kid? Hey, kid... Gavroche?"

Gavroche followed Combeferre's lead in looking up. "Éponine!" The book fell to the floor, and Gavroche embraced his eldest sister.

The boy noticed Azelma for the first time. They stared at each other for a moment.

"Gavroche?" Azelma whispered. "As in..."

"Yeah." said Gavroche, sounding astounded, "I guess."

Éponine nodded to them, letting the two sit and be surprised together at the table, while she slid to the floor at the former mantel clock's side.

"So am I how you pictured me to be?" Combeferre asked, pushing his rectangular glasses further up his nose.

"To be honest..." Éponine said, examining him from head to toe, then glimpsing at Courfeyrac by the table, "I thought you'd be the shorter one and that Wax Head over there would be the taller one."

Combeferre chuckled. He didn't say anything for a second, then cleared his throat, took his glasses off and cleaned them with his shirt, put them back on, scratched his head and began. "So, 'Ponine, I was wondering if you could- I mean would- only if you wanted to- would you do me the-"

"He's asking you out!" more than half the room said in perfect unison.

Éponine felt herself blush and tingle. She smiled like an idiot and said, "I'd like that." She hesitated, then kissed his cheek, resulting to cheers erupting from the others. Still dizzy, the two helped each other up and joined the company in their celebrations.

The grandest feast began, bigger because everyone was there and everyone was talking and laughing. Éponine talked less than she usually would have, because she watched. She watched how being human lifted everyone's spirits, how it showed things being an object didn't. Gavroche slammed his fists on the table when he laughed, while Jehan covered their mouth close their eyes. Courfeyrac had habit of throwing his arms around the people beside him, which usually included Combeferre. The two certainly looked close, closer than they had ever been as objects.

Hours later, the girl found herself wandering through the corridors and entering the hall of paintings leading to the library. She had not given the place much attention after finding the treasure trove of books, but now she regret not exploring it.

She recognized a painting of Jean Prouvaire, and she realized that most of them had portraits somewhere in the hall. Bossuet's was on the floor near the library entrance, while Combeferre's hung right across from where Éponine was standing. She was about to approach it when she noticed the main painting.

The portrait of the pale, unidentified young man had changed. The innocent, black-eyed figure remained the same, but it was like it had been fixed; it was no longer ripped. What once had been empty frame showed Grantaire, several years younger, clad in his green suit. The two men in the painted were slightly similar; they had the same nose and eyebrows, and their eyes were the same round shape, though Grantaire's were brown and the other one's were black.

The door opened and in came Bossuet, and Grantaire himself.

"I told you she was in the library." Bossuet said.

"She's not technically in the library." Grantaire countered. He rubbed his nose. "Hmm, I feel like I'm forgetting something..."

Bossuet ignored all of this and said, "Why are you here, 'Ponine? For a second, we were pretty worried."

"Looking around." Éponine replied. She then remembered the signatures on all the paintings: the single letter R. "Hey, Grantaire? Did you paint all these?"

Grantaire looked around, as if forgetting whether or not he had painted everything. "Yes. I was actually thinking of making one of you and your siblings, if you let me. I usually paint portraits, right after I hire the subject."

"Hire?"

The master of the castle grinned like he had many times that day. "What did you expect? That we'd kick you out and send you back to your father? No way. Do you think you'd be okay with working in the orchard?"

"What? Yes!" Éponine replied. "And Azelma?"

"We just spoke with her." said Bossuet. "Prouvaire agrees that they need help in the garden."

"You can even keep your room." said Grantaire.

Éponine nodded, and her attention latched back onto the paintings. "Hey," she said out of curiosity, "Who's that with you in your portrait?"

Grantaire turned his head towards said portrait and gasped. Bossuet stared, looking horrified.

"I knew I was forgetting something." the master murmured.

"Who is it?" said Éponine.

"Marius."

"How could we-" Bossuet began.

"The curse, probably."

"Where do you think...?"

"I have no clue."

"Who's Marius?" Éponine asked, slightly frustrated of her cluelessness.

"He's my little brother." said Grantaire.

"You have a-"

"I think we all somehow forgot he existed during those six years." said Bossuet.

"And you don't know where he is?"

The two men shook their heads.

"Too bad I'm not magic mirror anymore." said Bossuet.

Grantaire laughed. "Yeah. Then we'd all have to do would be saying, 'Show us Marius' and-"

His words were cut off, and the scene went dark. When the light came back, the first visible thing was a pair of wings. Silver wings. The moth flew over the gardens with new energy. Éponine realized she could not move, nor feel the ground underneath her. The world began to spin and the scene faded to black. And they were back in the hall of paintings.

Bossuet's eyes were glowing silver. After they reverted to their normal grey, he shuddered. "Did- did you guys see that?"

"What was that?" said Éponine, whose head was still spinning.

"I think..." said Grantaire, "You may not be a mirror anymore, but you can still see things."

"Awesome... maybe." Bossuet rubbed his eyes, "So, wait. Does that mean that Marius is the moth?"

Wow. Okay.

"So my doomsday clock was also my brother. Fun."

"How come he hasn't turned back?" said Éponine.

"I- don't know." The master frowned, gaze fixed up on his portrait.

"Well, I guess we'll have to find out." Éponine concluded.

Grantaire smiled. "Yeah. You know, one good thing came out of this curse, Éponine. You and Azelma."

"Two good things." said Bossuet. Upon receiving weird looks, he explained, "I'm magic? That's cool!" And as Grantaire punched his arm, Éponine glanced back up at Marius in the painting, wondering what was to come. She had a feeling that the future didn't hold many little towns or quiet villages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID I  
> just set myself up for a sequel  
> Maybe
> 
> WILL I  
> write said sequel  
> I hope so
> 
> no seriously I have it all planned out so I'll probably take a break for a while, but I'll come back to this series eventually and write a sequel where they set out to turn poor Marius back into a human ~~and maybe meet a few new friends along the way *nudges the shippers*~~ :) thanks for reading!
> 
> also here's my [Tumblr](https://uncreativepieceofmusicaltrash.tumblr.com/) if you want it


End file.
